Loser Makes Good
by Jemppy
Summary: I'm not ready as I thought I was to give up. Maybe he was right when he told me that he didn't pity me, I only pitied myself. [JayMarco] (yup that's right)


**AN:** Hey I am back and not with _The Reason._ But this isn't a one-shot either. I actually return with another Jay/Marco story, more of a continuation of _Disaffected_. There are a few references to _Disaffected_, but you don't really need to go out and read it. I know Marco/Dylan is the perfect couple and cannon and aww I love it so much, I felt the urge to continue with the pairing that we-dare-not-speak-its-name. So enjoy.

**Disclaimers:** No own Degrassi: TNG. Title and chapter titles belong to Everclear lyrics. Loser Makes Good is also an awsome song by the same name.

**Warnings:** Strong language. This IS Jay.

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**Part 1:**_ "I'll kick your ass if you pity me."_

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I'm a fucking moron. I know that now.

Yeah, I hate school, but I don't fucking want to get kicked out of it! I mean, hell, I escape to this shit-hole everyday to avoid my mom and her boyfriend. If you look at my attendance record, you'd see that I hardly miss a day of school (of course that doesn't mean that I go to the classes, but I'm there at school). I can avoid all the bullshit that is my home at school.

So why am I constantly screwing up and edging closer to expulsion?

This time? I got into another fight.

Some punk-ass Grade 10 started in on me. Calling me worthless. Saying I was one those useless pieces of shit that wastes air. Now I may not be a genius but I'm not a rock thumping caveman. So I did what every guy would do when someone was dissing our pride.

I beat the shit out of him.

Okay, in retrospect (see Ms. Kwan? Vocab word, I do listen...sometimes) I realize that maybe that kid's face meeting my fist wasn't the best response I've could have chose, but what will you do?

Of course with the early fight with Cameron, the stuck up do-gooder's accusation that the stolen goods were in my car, and just the rumors alone (all true except for the stealing Radditch's nose-hair trimmer, where the fuck did that come from?) have all threatened my placement. I so much as 'step one toe out of line' then I am gone.

In another fit of frustration, I slam my fist into the closest locker. It hurts me more than the locker.

Hissing in pain, I pull my fist close to me and slid down the locker so that I'm sitting on the floor. I don't understand why this is bothering me so much. I hate school, so why is being kicked out of it bothering me?

Oh yeah, escape.

Now here I am, being the fucking moron with a bruised fist. So that's why I slammed that same hand into the tiled floor.

Maybe its because I hate people telling me that I'm a piece of crap. And whether it is in the frank terms that punk Grade 10 used or Radditch's sugarcoated verbal beat down, people have been telling me that I'm shit a lot lately.

I don't care.

I don't want to care. _Damnit._

Now I slam my head back against the locker, so hard that it jars my sunglasses off of my hat and fall down to my nose.

"What did my locker ever do to you?" a voice asks from above me.

Through the tinted window that now covers my eyes, I see Marco del I-really-should-figure-out-what-the-rest-is standing with his arms loaded with books and his backpack hanging off his shoulder.

"Stole my lunch money." I dead pan. Marco and I have reached an understanding or something. I don't harass him anymore and he still says hello to me.

"Lunch money? Usually it just steals my books, moving on up, huh?" the last part was said to the locker itself.

I just snort under my breath. I've learned that when you listened to him, the kid had a pretty good sense of humor. "Yeah," I answered. "That bastard."

Marco laughed and nudged me with his foot, hinting that I needed to move for him to open his locker. After I scooted to the side, he opened his locker and threw his books in. "So why are you really bashing you head into my locker?"

"None of your damned business."

"I figured."

"Then why the hell did you ask?"

"I saw your hand."

_The fuck?_ "Huh?"

"Your hand, it is starting to bruise." Marco pointed with his free hand while with the other, he pulled out a jean jacket from the depths of his locker.

Oh. Looking down at the hand in question, I can see how my knuckles were puffing out in a dark greenish shade. That would start to hurt soon. Oh well.

"So what really has made you want to hurt my locker?" he shut the door and inspect a small dent that my fist had created.

"Didn't know it was your fucking locker." I was still holding on to my anger at Radditch and the Grade 10 fucker, and I didn't really care if I took it out on Marco or not.

But Marco took my anger in stride. "Okay." he stated, nonplused. "Then why are you randomly beating up lockers?"

"Because if I beat up anymore people I'm gone from here."

Marco nodded and looked down at me. Now maybe after an afternoon of 'Lets List Why Jay Sucks', this position we were in was making me feel even more shitty. I know I could easily stand up and tower over him but, was it even worth it anymore?

I suck. I get it.

"I heard about you beating up a kid from Grade 10. You suspended?"

I finally shoved my glasses back up to my hat and shook my head. "Just for the rest of the day, surprisingly. I think Radditch was on something but I am on probation or something like that. I can't screw up anymore or I'm gone. Plus I now need to keep all my grades up to B average or I'm gone. And now at the end of each week I have to get my teachers to sign a sheet saying that I was in their class and being productive and attentive, or-"

"You're gone?"

"Yeah. Suck ass." I just roll my eyes. "Don't matter. I can't save the grades. I'm outta here by the end of the week."

Marco leaned against his locker and looked thoughtful. "Well, look, you have six classes, right?"

"Yeah so?"

"What are they? You have English, History, Gym, Media Immersion, Math and Shop, right?"

"Advance Mechanics, but yeah shop. And Algebra for the mentally retarded." I eye him levelly, where was he going with this? Can he tell that I don't give a shit? The way I see it is that I'm a fucking moron and there is no way to save any of my grades much less have any teacher willing sign something saying that I was good in class, so I might as well accept that I am gone.

"Okay so why don't I help you in the classes that I can?" Marco smiled slightly. "I'm known as the nerdy geek, so why not?"

"Also the gay kid."

"Okay. Nerdy gay kid, whatever. I can help. And you'll stay in school. Of course maybe you should talk to Sean about shop, but the other classes, definitely."

Suddenly I was unreasonably angry. There was no fucking way I was going take a fag's pity. I jumped to my feet and resumed my position of looking down on him and sneered into his face. "I'm not your fucking charity case for whatever gay honor society you're in. I don't need your fucking pity."

My outburst surprised Marco and he stumbled back a few steps, once again looking afraid of me. The past few days of quiet understanding was gone in my anger. He was just that stupid gay kid again and I don't associate with the do-goodies like him.

I rammed my fist into his locker, hiding the wince as the bruised knuckles met metal. I leaned in close to him, "Fuck you and your pity. I'll kick your ass if you pity me."

I was stalking off when I heard him call after me.

"I don't pity you. I think you pity yourself."

I'm a fucking moron but I don't stop walking away.


End file.
